Immodest Proposal
by fortunesque
Summary: "True to Caesar" becomes something more than Vulpes intended. Written for the Fallout Kink Meme. Dubcon, m/m


A/n: It took a lot of time for me to finally work up the balls to post this and claim it as my own. I wrote this for the Fallout Kink Meme, for a Caesar/Vulpes prompt for painful, uncomfortable sex, bonus points if the guards have to watch. The prompt scratched around in my head and wouldn't leave me alone, so I had to write. If this isn't your thing, please just move on and don't read it.

**WARNING:**

**This oneshot contains painful man on man sex, with dubious consent given. Please do not read this if such material offends you or isn't your thing.**

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><p>It'd been a long time since Caesar had been with anyone, longer still since he'd been able to get his prick to work. He cursed his age, but he never made it known how much of a demasculinizing burden it was.<p>

He'd read that often times, impotence was caused by stress and boredom, which he had both of in spades. What one needed was something different to spice up their sex life. That was why Vulpes Inculta was in his tent. Lucius sat off to the side, his disapproval showing on his face despite his best efforts.

"And you're sure you want me to do this?" Vulpes asked, "I'm hardly a good candidate. I've no experience with such things. One of the slaves—"

"No," Caesar replied, "I want someone I can trust."

Vulpes began to pace like a caged animal, his hands continuously running through his short hair. He knew the young man was reluctant to do this; he'd never lain with another man before. Caesar hadn't either, but he assumed it all worked the same way.

"Relax," he chuckled, "the dissolute do this all the time."

Lucius cringed and looked away in disgust. For a moment, the Son of Mars second-guessed himself. But all it took was a glance at his boyishly handsome spy for him to solidify in his mind that this would happen, with the man he was looking at.

"If my Lord wishes it," Vulpes murmured, "then I will do this." He looked nauseous and frightened, but soon he'd be writhing under him in pleasure.

"The reward will be great," Caesar replied before seizing him by the back of the head and kissing him deeply.

He pushed out any thoughts of how damningly wrong and hypocritical this whole thing was as their lips melted against each other. Where had Vulpes learned how to kiss? It was slow and sensual, one of the most incredible kisses he'd had in his life.

Caesar felt his arousal begin to stir and pressed himself against the younger man. Reaching around, he began to untie Vulpes' armor, his mouth drifting to the spy's muscular neck. With some tugging, the armor came off and Caesar moved back to steal another kiss.

Vulpes was an inferno underneath this hands; Caesar splayed his hands across his tunic, reveling in the way he gasped when his thumbs brushed against his nipples.

His spy was being unexpectedly submissive and docile, though it was not unwelcome. Like a slave, Vulpes didn't touch Caesar. He didn't even make a move to undress him. But whenever Caesar moved in, Vulpes was waiting with those incredible, mind-numbing kisses.

Caesar wanted this with a ferocity that he'd not expected.

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><p>Oh, God, not his nipples. His nipples were the happy place, and there was another man all over them. And it wasn't just any man, no; this was a man that he looked up to as a grandfatherly figure and a leader.<p>

Vulpes closed his eyes and tried to picture that it was a woman who had their hands roaming under his clothes, peeling them off. He felt a mouth drift over to his nipple and he gasped. A nibble soon followed and he flinched. Caesar was absolutely ruthless on him. It was too much stimulation; he wanted to shriek and pull away.

Mercifully, the onslaught stopped and Vulpes opened his eyes. As Caesar pulled the rest of his tunic off, Vulpes' eyes caught those of Lucius. He began to mentally plead with the old guard, and though the message had been transferred through eye contact, Lucius merely shook his head and looked away.

'True to Caesar' had turned into something far, far more than the general mandate for both of them.

Vulpes found himself naked except for his boots, his semi-erection rapidly deflating in the cool night air. He really hoped his Lord didn't notice; as a spy, he could fake many things, but it was entirely impossible to fake arousal.

Caesar turned him around and bent him over the table and he knew what was coming next. A weight settled over him; he didn't want to think about what the object was that pressed against a certain area of his body that he didn't want to think about either.

"Uh," Vulpes murmured, "you do have some oil or something on there, right?"

Caesar grunted and left him and Vulpes' jaw dropped. He'd seriously forgotten that lube was a good idea? A shudder ran through his body as he realized that he should have begged and pleaded instead of being a man about this and just taking it.

Vulpes tensed as the weight resettled above him, a set of greased fingers spreading lubrication along the cleft of his ass. Panting, he forced himself to relax; he'd be in a world of pain if he didn't unclench. Without warning, he was penetrated and stretched way beyond what felt to be reasonable. A loud moan sounded in his ear as Vulpes groaned in pain and dug his fingernails into the rough table.

The pain was nearly unbearable; it made the edges of his vision blacken. He wanted nothing more than to scramble out from under Caesar, to run off and go cry like a little girl in his tent. This was vile, humiliating and it topped the list of things he'd never want to experience again.

Just when he felt like it couldn't get worse, Caesar began to move. Though he was trying to be gentle to a point, each thrust brought the nauseating sensation of being rubbed raw from the inside. There wasn't enough lubrication, not enough preparation. Vulpes grunted in pain with each passing thrust and wondered when it'd all end.

Instead, it continued in an endless cacophony of dry squelching sounds, pants and grunting. The table joined in the chorus, the old wooden joints squeaking and vocalizing their distress instead of the mute Frumentarius.

Eventually the pain began to fade away until it was bearable. Vulpes exhaled, realizing that he could do this. Everything would be okay.

But he'd breathed his sigh of relief too soon. Caesar's thrusts became erratic and increasingly violent. The pain came back with a relentless brutality.

Vulpes cursed under his breath and vowed that he'd be gentle with the slave women from that point on. He pleaded with any god that would be listening that this would stop.

Caesar bucked above him and stilled; his prayers had been heard. And as the Son of Mars pulsed and throbbed inside him, Vulpes' shame increased.

"Damn," Caesar panted, "that was amazing, wasn't it?"

"Yes, my lord," he replied, trying hard not to shudder.

He had to say that it was, had to pretend that he'd liked it. Vulpes had been taken like a slave and ended up feeling the shame of a slave. Things like this happened every day, right under his nose. Those in power preyed on those of lesser power. How many times had he done the same to someone else? The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Caesar dismissed him without a second thought and left him to dress in silence. He looked over at Lucius and their eyes met for a moment before the guard looked away and shook his head. That was fine; he didn't want to talk about it either.

Vulpes left the tent, trying desperately not to limp.

"True to Caesar," a guard called, offering a nod.

Soundlessly, Vulpes disappeared into his tent, unable to find the words to answer.


End file.
